


The Evidence Storage Room

by Verabird



Category: Les Misérables (Dallas 2014), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Hand Jobs, Handcuffs, Javert's Confused Boner, M/M, Office Sex, Spreader Bars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-02
Updated: 2016-05-02
Packaged: 2018-06-05 20:18:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6721837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Verabird/pseuds/Verabird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's cluttered and impossible to find anything in, so Javert demands a clear out of the evidence storage room. This leads to Chabouillet discovering an old box full of lots of exciting things - mostly leather - and Javert gets very hard very fast.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Evidence Storage Room

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Firestorm717](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Firestorm717/gifts).



> Sort of inspired by a gifset Firestorm717 reblogged the other day, and some discussion of modern AU Javert/Chabouillet from the livestream chat. Also healthy doses of fanon Wattsvert and his leather kink.

"Just bring them over here."

Javert followed the sound of Chabouillet's voice, lost amidst a forest of metal shelving and cardboard boxes, brown paper and string labels littered the surfaces and spilled onto the floor. The evidence storage at the prefect really needed a clean out. Chabouillet always said he could find what he was looking for in this mess, but Javert suspected that was a bold-faced lie. He certainly couldn't find contraband he'd deposited in here last week, let alone dig up something important for a long-running case. Things were shifted around and refiled on a daily basis, usually by someone like Jules-Ernest, who had no clue what he was doing. Gisquet never cared enough to call an inspection, he just let Chabouillet get on with it, which resulted in the unorganised mess that drove Javert mad.

He was carrying several empty cardboard boxes and black bags, because after somehow losing nearly five kilograms of cocaine the day after locking it into the evidence room Javert had decided that enough was enough and demanded they clear some space. Chabouillet told him not to worry, it would turn up eventually, and thanks to the security all police employees went through on their way in and out of the building they knew for sure it hadn't left the premises. Still, a man could only take so much, and when the trial went to court Javert wanted to know for certain he could find the evidence. Misplacing large quantities of drugs made the whole station look bad.

"God, this stuff's old, remember when we used these in interrogations?"

Javert rounded a tower of overflowing shelves and saw Chabouillet digging through a box, hands full of reams of loose cassette tape. It was tangled and useless, gathering dust, but for some reason still taking up space. Javert laid down the boxes he was carrying and opened a black bag, holding it as Chabouillet dumped in armfuls of tape. Once he'd gathered as much as he could with his hands he tipped the box upside down letting the tape fall in with a crackle of static.

"That's enough to be getting on with, don't you think, Javert? Otherwise this will take us ages."

"With all due respect Monsieur, that's just one box."

"Well it's space for something."  
Javert set his expression into one of grim severity. He wouldn't budge on this, he'd given too much leeway already, and it was starting to get dangerous. State rules indicated they only had to keep physical evidence up until three weeks post-conviction, only the files and documents needed to be saved.

Chabouillet sighed. "Fine, but like I said, the paperwork's all yours to deal with."

Javert ran a hand through his hair and tied off the bag. He didn't mind filling out some firearms disposal forms for rifles confiscated in the late eighties. Not if it meant finding the drugs before Jules-Ernest accidentally ate them.

"What are all these books?" Javert asked, uncovering a box and promptly coughing as a wave of dust entered his lungs. Chabouillet waved his hand in front of his face and peered inside.

"Old code-breaker tools probably. Remember all those gangs on Montmartre that communicated through page numbers and we had to find which book they were all using to get the words? I bet these were taken from their houses."

"But we shut down the last of those gangs in 1997!" Javert ran another hand through his hair and cast his superior a despairing look. Chabouillet just shrugged and began loading the books into another of the boxes Javert had brought. When that was dealt with and cast to one side, Chabouillet turned to the line of lockers running along the back wall and took a key out his pocket.

"I haven't needed to open one of these evidence lockers in years."

"Are they labelled?"

"Probably were at one point."

Javert looked at the peeling yellowing labels that were overlaid across the locker fronts. The place was a nightmare and Javert had half a mind to draft up his own system of storing evidence, which definitely wasn't in his job description, but it needed to be done.

The locker creaked as it opened and Chabouillet stuck his head inside to look around. Javert heard his laugh echo from within the case of metal.

"Well, now it just got exciting."

"What is it?"

Chabouillet retreated and gave Javert a grin complete with sparkling eyes. "I don't want to shock you."

Javert rolled his eyes. "Come on bring it out."

Chabouillet snorted and reached in to grasp a black container. He set it on a nearby tower of boxes and raised his eyebrow with a suggestive wiggle in Javert's direction.

"The office was like christmas when this came in," Chabouillet said, tapping the lid. "I've never seen a group of men look so excited with the findings of a drugs bust. We had to take in all unusual items in case there were things hidden in them."

He opened the container and carefully picked out a few bits of tissue paper only to toss them on the floor. The first item he drew out was a pair of handcuffs hooked round one finger. Javert watched the way Chabouillet spun them with a wink before also tossing them to the side.

Javert frowned as Chabouillet looked back into the box and snorted before reaching in. This time Chabouillet's hand came back with a leather whip, handle thick and knotted, far too many tassels to be tasteful. With his other hand Chabouillet pulled out a complicated looking gag, straps forming a head harness around a ball of thick black rubber.

"You should try this on, it would suit you," Chabouillet said before placing the gag by the handcuffs. Javert shifted on his feet and swallowed, unsure how to react. He'd seen things like this before in the bookmarked videos on his laptop and hanging from hooks in shops he only dared to visit late at night and in plain clothes. But he'd only ever looked, never touched, yet here was Monsieur Chabouillet curling his fingers round a whip with all the practised ease in the world.

Next he pulled out a long black bar with straps on either end. "I'd never seen one of these before," He said casually. "But Devaux helpfully told everyone present at the time that it's a spreader bar, and I think it's a rather innovative idea." He shook his head with a chuckle and sent it the same way as the handcuffs and gag.

He turned the whip in his hands and let the leather fringe run over his palms and fingertips. Then on a sudden spur of the moment he gave the whip a playful swish against the locker, provoking a sharp smacking sound.

Javert tried his best to be inconspicuous, a task he performed terribly, and he ended up taking a very obvious step to the side so he ended up behind a high pile of files. The odd move might have been passable if it hadn't been for the slightly strangled noise that escaped the back of his throat.

Chabouillet looked up, first into Javert's eyes, then down at the pile of folders that concealed him from the waist down. He flicked his eyes back to the box and Javert thought for a brief moment that he might have got away with it.

"Need a hand, Javert? We don't keep those here I'm afraid, they're kept in frozen storage."

Javert spluttered, throat constricting, and he could feel his cheeks flush red. Chabouillet glanced back up at him and Javert was left in the knowledge that he was actually blushing before his superior.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of. Devaux had to leave the room. Twice."

Javert cleared his throat and tried to speak while keeping his voice level. "Forgive me, Monsieur, a temporary lapse of judgement—"

"Oh don't give me that." Chabouillet sounded amused, and now he was leaning casually against the locker with the whip draped over one hand. "You're a man, it happens, but if you want us to keep clearing up it might be more comfortable for you if you were to deal with it."  
Javert's eyes widened and he raised his eyebrows, mouth opening and closing. Chabouillet smiled charmingly back at him, obviously aware of how easily he was disarming his inspector. "Monsieur I—"

"I could always help."

Javert choked and managed to knock over the pile of files in front of him that was keeping him safely covered. The papers scattered away revealing his hands pathetically trying to cover the erection clearly visible through his trousers. Instantly he felt embarrassed, but the casual way Chabouillet had spoken those smooth words only served to harden him more. He shifted his weight and tried in vain to cover himself.

"Was it the whip? I thought perhaps it was just two men caught in an intimate space, but it was something more wasn't it? It's this stuff, it actually turns you on."

Javert let a small moan escape his lips and he glanced to either side of him as if he might run down one of the aisles and flee. Chabouillet rested a hand on his hip and gave the whip another sharp smack against the locker, harder this time. Javert looked at Chabouillet desperately, a plea, to stop looking at him with that amused smile and to stop playing with that whip with those long elegant fingers and to stop smirking like that.

Chabouillet bent to pick up the handcuffs and then tossed them at Javert. Javert fumbled but managed to catch the chains between his fingers.

"Put them on."

Javert looked up, searching for the joke, but Chabouillet for all his amusement had an expression that was deadly serious. Javert would never, could never, disobey a superior, so he snapped the handcuffs quickly round his wrists. Chabouillet looked far too pleased with the obedience and stepped forward. The aisle was small and Javert could feel the shelves behind him closing in against his back, and Chabouillet was in front of him bridging the gap with a frame almost as tall as his own.

"A little tighter," He murmured, maintaining eye contact as Javert reached for his wrists and closed the cuffs as tight as they'd go until they pinched into skin. "Very good."

Chabouillet cupped his face, but it wasn't a gentle motion. His fingers dug into Javert's jaw painfully and his thumb rested harshly against the hollow of his throat. Javert struggled to breathe evenly, he tested the give of the cuffs and felt his stomach lurch as he pulled on the chain.

Chabouillet smiled, seeming more like the sinister hunter than the amused onlooker from prior moments. He gave the pile of leather objects a thoughtful glance, then picked up the spreader bar. He held it in front of Javert as both a challenge and a question. Javert swallowed.

Chabouillet smoothed his fingers over the metal and gave Javert a cursory look. "I'd prefer you without the trousers," He said casually, and waited as Javert's cuffed hands fumbled with his belt and pulled his trousers down as far as the chain would allow. Chabouillet helped him the rest of the way, then placed a firm hand on Javert's shoulder and guided him to the floor. There was carpet, but it was thin and allowed no protection.

With just a brief reassuring smile, but no words, Chabouillet fastened a strap round one of Javert's knees then pushed the other apart and adjusted the second strap there. Javert felt the sudden vulnerability wash over him. His knees were spread apart before Chabouillet's gaze and touch, and he was completely unable to bring them together. Cool air washed over his erection and bare thighs and he shivered.

Chabouillet pressed a palm to one of the bare thighs and stroked gently before running two fingers down Javert's cock. Pre-come shot in a sudden spurt from Javert's red and wanting length, pooling on the floor between his spread knees. Chabouillet took this as a cue to take Javert's whole erection in his hand and begin stroking. Javert attempted to thrust up into his palm, but Chabouillet held him down with a hand on his shoulder.

"If I'd have known how much you'd enjoy this I'd have opened that locker years ago."

Javert let out a whimper and brought his hands to his face, bringing them together due to the cuffs, and putting a fist in his mouth. He bit down, trying to stifle a moan, but it was impossible. Chabouillet's hand felt white hot against his skin and those fingers knew exactly what they were doing.

Chabouillet gripped harder, spurred on by Javert's desperation, his cock slippery and flushed in his fist. Javert's muscles tensed, his thighs trying to squeeze together, unnaturally spread open, and his cock so prominently displayed in this way, it was shameful. But whilst his face burned, his body betrayed him. Chabouillet gripped Javert's cock in one hand, stroking hard, and his other pressed firm against Javert's chest. With a strangled moan Javert jerked his hips and slammed back into the shelf behind him, coming hard and heavy into Chabouillet's hand and the space between his thighs. He rode the after-waves with Chabouillet's fist still holding him tight, then fell back against the shelf. The metal shifted and something landed with a soft thud a few feet away from his shuddering spent form.

Both their gazes were drawn to it, Javert squinted to see better in his haze of blurred edges, but Chabouillet took one look and laughed. He stood, and moved to pick up the well-sealed white package. "Well, at least we know half the station aren't getting high in the back offices, I told you it would turn up. I should go give Jules-Ernest a slap on the wrist for this." He tucked the package of cocaine under one arm and knelt in front of Javert. He smiled and wiped his palm over Javert's face, smearing his come across his cheeks. Javert's cuffed hands dropped into his lap and his thighs relaxed as best they could, still firmly spread. He licked his lips, tasting himself, his pleasure and shame, and he whimpered.

"Sit tight, I'll be back in a minute," Chabouillet said, giving Javert's cheek a final pat. "And then we can find out what else is in that box."


End file.
